Honeymoon Due
by IHKF
Summary: Marinette accomplishes her dreams- being a designer, owning her own boutique, and even marrying Adrien Agreste! What she'd always wanted just didn't exactly happen the way she wanted it to... Chat may just be able to change that.


"Loveless Marriage" wasn't anything Marinette expected for herself. No, far from it. She imagined that she'd walk down the aisle in a fancy gown she made all by herself and he'd cry when he saw her, that she'd spend her time chasing her dreams, that her husband would support her wholeheartedly and love her with such ferocity that the world could feel it- like her parents. To be fair, she got most of that. Her wedding dress was, in fact, a Marinette original, a sweetheart neckline that fell like silk over her shoulders and trailed behind her like a queen's cape. White as snow, fit her body as though Tikki had magiced it out of the thin air. Modest in length but short enough to see her pointed kitten heels. She ran her own boutique, and her customers adored her every creation. She was fairly known locally, and had refused several offers to expand because she simply wasn't ready. Her husband certainly supported her with everything he had, which was a large sum of inheritance and all the words of affirmation she could handle- Adrien was always an amazing friend.

He just wasn't a good husband, not in the emotional sense.

He did all the things husbands should do, like help with chores, work with her as a team (they were really efficient with taxes), and he never, ever forgot a birthday or anniversary. But love? Well, Marinette had doubts when he'd proposed. Nobody else seemed to, and if Nino nor Alya thought that maybe (just maybe) he wasn't in love with her, then clearly she was just overthinking things, right? Tikki, who was never, with all her years of experience, lacking in advice, always seemed to get quiet when Marinette mused aloud to her about the whole thing. "I think he loves you, Marinette," she'd said once. "Just you wait, I bet he's gonna sweep you off your feet!" Adrien didn't cry when she walked down the aisle.

Well, he had swept her off her feet in the sense that she was still madly in love with him. The...intimacy… that came with marriage, though? Marinette, five months married, was ashamed to say their honeymoon was spent exploring the beauties of the world's most touristy locations (Niagara Falls, the Leaning Tower, several century-old cathedrals…) and less breaking in a bed. Aside from sleeping. Which was the only thing they did together in a bed. She hadn't had the heart to complain to Alya yet, not when she'd gone as far as helping her through the very stressful, very experimental process of helping her find Wifey lingerie. Adrien had never seen it, and to be honest she was considering throwing the set (a white lace bodice, strung up with panties that were certainly not meant to be worn so much as they were meant to be taken off and thrown across a room, tucked neatly in a drawer, under a few sleeping shirts so he'd never find it) away before something awkward inevitably happened. Knowing her, that time was approaching with teeth-grinding intensity. She could feel the sharp, hungry nails of impending embarrassment clawing down her back.

The kissing-er, Adrien kissed her cheek, and when his lips neared her mouth, he pecked and moved smooth as ice away from her. It killed her when he did that, because she knew it was for the paparazzi, that it was for appearances so everybody thought they were a happy married couple. She'd thought to herself, a few days into their vacation, if perhaps he was just shy, being as sheltered as he had been most of his life; those thoughts (hopes, excuses, whatever you wanna call them…) were dashed when they moved into their sleek uptown apartment and he still didn't touch her. The idea that he wasn't interested in sex crossed her mind, but that thought also… diminished… when she found several lewd Ladybug cosplayers saved on his computer whilst she searched for a work file he needed her to print. She'd blushed, and vaguely wondered if she should make her own cosplay and see if he had a crush on her alter ego, but brushed the thought away as the conflict of revealing her identity immediately clashed.

Maybe just… Ladybug-inspired lingerie, then?

Her whole body grew red hot and she threw her head uselessly against the desk a handful of times.

She'd known, honestly, for a long time. Adrien hadn't ever touched her out on dates or kissed her, even if he did hold her hand. He had never loved her, not really, he was settling and they both knew it; he just didn't know that she knew it. If Gabriel's investment in their wedding meant anything, she had a running theory on her husband's intentions. It was a formality, for him to get married, and all the better if the art of design stuck in the family. She wouldn't be surprised if Gabriel started pushing for grandchildren soon, especially since her well-meaning parents were already getting antsy. She hadn't broached the subject with Adrien, but considering their marital bed was far from active or explored, she figured that topic was best left alone.

She loved him, truly, she did. There was no other man she wanted so badly, no man who meant so much to her that she'd be willing to subject herself to months of affectionless, almost fake domesticity, but she had to wonder if her limit was fast approaching. She could only pretend to be happy for so long before it broke her. Being in an unrequited love was one thing, but constantly subjecting herself to a situation where her heart was as open as it bloody well could have been and receiving nothing for it… even Ladybug couldn't stand to be an accessory for so long.

She sighed and dropped her bag on the floor, exhausted from the patterns she'd spent all day laboring over and the mental toll overthinking her hopeless marriage had taken. Adrien wouldn't be home for at least three more hours, and Chat Noir was expecting her in ten minutes. Ladybug was surprisingly desperate to get away from her comfy apartment with her Model-Extraordinaire-Husband and get a breath of fresh air with her flirty kitty. She missed the muffled voice from the other side of their bedroom door as she pushed it open.

Upon flicking the switch, she found Chat Noir himself standing brazenly in the middle of the bedroom, looking for all the world like a cat with a half-eaten bird in its mouth. They both froze.

Moments ticked by, wide green eyes pointedly staring into slanted, confused blue ones.

She sighed. "Chat Noir, what are you doing in my house?"

"Y-Your house? O-Oh, yes, I, well, uh…" He tugged at the collar of his suit, which exposed the already-visible skin on his chest even more than usual, what with his half-open zipper. The unsatisfied, mistreated wife of a clueless, sexless model flared within her at the sight, but she pushed the inner singing voice down. Chat grinned at her, slipping into his typical composure as easy as one slips into a worn pair of jeans. "I was coming to check in on you, Princess. Heard you got married!"

Marinette scoffed, and immediately Chat's face fell. "Legally, I guess. Yeah."

"Marinette?"

She crossed the room and plopped down on the king-sized mattress she and Adrien slept side-by-side in every night, let her shoulders sag. No use pretending she was a happy-go-lucky successful designer with a perfect husband when she knew Chat Noir could keep a secret. Besides, he was her best friend, her kitty, her partner- the man she damn well would have ended up with had Adrien not been in the picture. She knew it, she was sure Chat knew it, not that he knew she was Ladybug or that the other guy in the picture was Adrien. "You know what it's like… to be in love…" she squeezed her eyes shut, tried to breath and keep the budding threat of tears at bay. "To not be loved back."

"Princess," something in Chat's voice had bristled, like he was offended on behalf of her husband. "I certainly hope you're not going around falling for other men!"

"Other than my _husband_?" She said it with air quotes. "No, I love him. Only him. Always have."

"But you're married? Clearly it's mutual, right?"

Something in Chat's voiced begged her to say "yes", to tell him that she was just being dramatic because Adrien hadn't left a note this morning when he left- which he had. She couldn't. A broken sob hit her chest and she leaned forward into her hands. "You'd think!" Her body shook, and she felt so horrible not like Ladybug right then. "I'm an ornament, Chat! I was an easy solution. I don't know, maybe his dad wanted him to get married? He knew me? Knew I loved him? Knew I wouldn't say no?" She shook her head and exhaled, hating the way her lungs stuttered. "I love him so much! But I'm not his wife! I'm his friend! That's all I've ever been to him! I'll bet he's still in love with that other girl, the one he kept mentioning when we were, like, fourteen." She snorted. "Can't blame him, that's how long I've loved him, so…"

The bed sprung, and she knew that if she turned, she would find Chat Noir haphazardly lazing on the bed next to her. "What makes you say that?" His words came out soft, softer than she'd heard out of him in a long while. Soft like he was talking to Ladybug. "I woulda thought he was a good partner."

"Partner, yes. Husband, no." She wiped away her tears and took a few deep breaths. It would be okay. She would calm down, she'd get used to this "marriage". Maybe. Hopefully. Heaven knew it was all she'd ever wanted, just not as she'd dreamed. "Adrien is… amazing. He's sweet, and gentle, and he's understanding. I can always lean on him," She chanced a glance at her partner, who was eyeing her from the side with what she could only assume was pity. Hurt, maybe, probably for her. Chat was good like that, a loyal, loving, empathetic kitty. The thought warmed her heart. A part of her wondered what would have happened if she knew Chat under the mask, if she would have married him instead, if he would have cried when she walked down the aisle (the honeymoon certainly would have been… wilder). She wondered if it wasn't too late to tell him that she was Ladybug, see where things took them.

Would Adrien be relieved if they had an open marriage? Would he take a deep sigh and ease up his bones and tell her how glad he was that he wouldn't have to pretend out of the public eye anymore? She scrunched her nose; that didn't sound like Adrien. Then she snorted, because who was she kidding? She'd never want to be with anybody but Adrien, no matter how tempting the promise of her minou could be. "But I don't think he loves me."

Chat opened his mouth to respond, and she stopped him. "Not like that."

He relented and fell silent again, leaning back on the bed in such a leisurely stretch, she'd have thought it was his bed. Marinette shook her head and tried to keep the tears that were making a second comeback away. "I think he married me because his dad wanted him to, and I think Adrien trusted me enough to not do something crazy like divorce him and take half his savings. Like I said," she shrugged. "We're friends. But I've always wanted more. I thought I could have that, that things would change after we got married."

"What did you want to change?" Chat was gazing up at her from his now comfortable position on her and Adrien's bed, head pressed against the fluffy mattress and the red comforter. His green eyes were gazing into her, in search of something and she wasn't sure what. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him.

"Us. I'd like to go on dates and cuddle on the couch. I'd _like_ to not be a married virgin!" Chat's face went the tingest red behind his mask, and her face was levels redder. She turned away from him again and crossed her arms over her chest, like she was adding another layer to her already-covered chest. Suddenly, any loving thoughts of an identity reveal flew far, far away; it would be better if Chat Noir never knew His Lady said something so embarrassing. "I'd like to kiss him, you know? Like an actual wife, like we," she shut her eyes "love each other."

She felt his claws, leather and tough, slipping around her arm, cupping the skin near her shoulder and warming it. He was sitting up, she assumed, because she could feel the bed creak under his shuffle. "How do you know it's because he doesn't love you?"

"What other reason could there be, Chat?"

His thumb ran in circles, small and simple, around her skin. The claw of his finger lightly grazed the muscle and tickled, and part of her hoped he wouldn't break skin. She wasn't sure how she'd explain that mark to Adrien (if he noticed). "You said you're friends. Maybe he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable? Maybe he already feels like you're doing him a favor?" The thumb stopped, and the claw was digging not uncomfortably into her arm; he'd break the skin and leave a mark, she knew, but Chat's caress was the closest she'd gotten to physical affection in months. She wasn't about to squander the little solace for a husband who would probably be happy for her, or not care, or not ask any questions at all. "Maybe… he wants to kiss you. Maybe he's thought about it a lot. Maybe, he just didn't want you to think all of it was fake?"

Marinette snickered and raised her free hand to wipe a tear that had built against her will in her eye. "I doubt it. Besides, I don't want to force him into-"

Chat turned her head by the chin and kissed her, unabashedly, passionately.

Chat kissed the way he did all things- no plan, no cares, only feeling. She was swept off her feet in momentary bliss, fingers itching at the comforter as they ached to pull at his hair. He had one hand cupping her jaw, and he was tipping her up to meet his lips and bite at her until they parted and he could set his tongue to work just as well. She let him, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe she was touch-starved, maybe her confidence had taken a bit of a nosedive in the last half a year, or maybe her less-than-platonic feelings for Chat ran a lot deeper than she thought they did; but she kissed him. She moaned and let him grab at her waist and pull her closer. She let him press her down into the mattress and climb on top of her, and if his hands went places they shouldn't have, she wouldn't have noticed in the flight of it all.

Right there, on the bed she shared with the boy of her dreams, she was going to break her marital bed in- without her husband. It should have felt wrong, she should have screamed and slapped him and (for pete sake yelled at him about fraternizing with a civilian which was COMPLETELY unethical) she should have told him not to come visit her again. But she didn't. She should have hated herself and Chat should have been long gone already and she should have been screaming to Tikki about her infidelity. But she didn't; no, something about being there with Chat felt leagues right above anything else she'd ever done. Better than opening up her boutique. Better than stopping an akuma. Better than baking her first perfect macaroon. Chat's fingers in her hair, his body pressed against hers with no space between to speak of, his lips trailing from her lips to her neck where he was biting and kissing and doing everything she'd ever dreamt Chat would do to Ladybug if she'd given him the greenlight- all of it felt universally right, like fate had brought them here, like Chat was always supposed to be the one.

That wasn't to say she didn't still love Adrien- she did, oh part of her wanted this to be him so, so very badly, but even Ladybug knew when she'd been beat. If Adrien truly was her friend, if he didn't want to play the role of "lover" that came with the "husband" title, then this had to be fair game.

Chat paused in his ministrations, lips sucking off her skin with a "pop". He chuckled, low and deep and it stirred her and spurned her further. "Never did get over that crush you had on me, huh?"

"W-what?" It took her a few seconds to register that he meant the weredad incident. Oh. She grimaced and playfully slapped his shoulder. "Don't let it get to your head, you mangy cat!"

He laughed, wholeheartedly, face digging into her neck and the mattress beneath as fits had their way with his body. Marinette nearly fell into hysterics just hearing and feeling him squirming atop her. She raised a hand to her mouth and stifled the sound that escaped. "I-It's hard n-not to, P-Princess!" He pulled up and over her, caging her in on the bed with his limbs, green eyes glaring into her with a warm, familiar glow. The mirth was plain on his face, like he knew something she didn't. She wondered what that would be, but dared not ask. He smirked: "It's already certainly gone to one head."

Her face grew three shades hotter. She reached up, grabbed a pillow, and smacked him.

He laughed even harder, pulling back to sit on his knees, but still kept his hands straddling her hips, nails creeping over the band of her jeans. "I should p-probably give Ladybug a call! Let her know I can't make it to patrol tonight!"

Oh yeah, patrol… that thing she was supposed to go on.

Marinette pretended to be none the wiser as Chat whipped out his staff and dialed in Ladybug's number. To no surprise, Ladybug did not pick up. Chat raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off nonetheless. "Hello, My Lady. Just wanted to let you know that this cat won't be an outdoor cat tonight." Marinette rolled her eyes, but smiled to herself at the voicemail she'd get later, and the memories she was yet to make, but would inevitably still be fresh next time she transformed. Chat's face grew sly in a way she hadn't really seen him get before. She wondered if it was his smolder face. As much as she hated to say it, for fear of adding to his ego, it worked. "You see, I've been a terrible housecat as of late. My poor wife has been feeling neglected, and I wouldn't be much of a husband if I didn't, at the very least, lick the bowl clean."

Wait. Wait, wait- what?

"Plagg, claws in."

Chat Noir shut the call down seconds before a green light, gradient and laser-like in movement, emanated from the stray cat at the foot of her bed. She squeaked and reached up to shield her eyes, balling up on the bed in a fetal position as if her knees could cover her eyes, give her another layer.

Chat laughed. "C'mon, Princess. Open your eyes." He reached over and pried her hands away from her squeezed eyes, holding them delicately as she struggled with the impending doom of seeing Chat without the mask. That made this too real, made _cheating on Adrien_ so much more real! "Marinette, it's okay," he brought her hands to his face and pressed a kiss to either knuckle. "Would I ever lie to you?"

Appealing to her trust in him- low blow. Despite the reservations she had (of which she had MANY), she let her eyes part, let them readjust from the blur.

There, sitting in front of her, was a very flushed, very cocky, Adrien Agreste. She couldn't help herself, she gasped. His face drew closer, eyes lidded the way she'd seen Chat Noir's narrow a million times. This time, this time felt so different. It was Adrien, his hair (oh, his hair was so Chat Noir right then it wasn't even FUNNY), his eyes, with Chat's smile and husky purr. Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed a kiss to her wrist and watched her reaction as he did it. She flushed. "So, Princess… would you have any interest in putting that wedding dress back on? I never got the chance to fully _admire_ it."

* * *

Admire it he did, with minimal damage, surprisingly. It was clear Chat Noir wanted to tear the damn thing off of her, but Adrien was still gentle and sweet and, most importantly, _knew better_. He did the next best thing, though, which meant she would need to replace the zipper if she were to wear it again for vow renewals. The bed that had been untouched for months was a feather-covered, duvet-sulking mess. Whatever makeup she'd been wearing before she started crying on Chat's shoulder had almost certainly been smeared or smudged or wiped off as she cried into Adrien's shoulder. He had lips imprinted all over him, but the one he seemed the most proud of was the one at the corner of his lip where he was grinning like a cat who caught a canary. The whole posture looked smug, actually. He sat up against the headrest, one arm propping up his high-held head, and the other running soothing circles into her shoulder where she laid at his chest. She pouted at him, mad that he wasn't even winded after the _stunts he pulled_… she was still catching her breath! "Sure you got fed, kitty? You look like you're about to paw at the cabinets again."

"I said I'd lick the bowl clean, Princess, never said I'd be full after."

She went red again, which seemed ridiculous after the sheer gymnastics they'd both performed minutes earlier. "How?"

"Hm?"

"How are you not even a little tired after that?"

Adrien titterted. "That's what happens when you let a man with month's worth of fantasies jump your bones. I'm not even halfway through my list yet."

"What part of _I am your wife_ did the wedding not get through to you?"

To her surprise, Adrien's smile grew soft, full of love; he leaned back down to capture her between both arms and hold her to his chest. This was the Adrien she'd always known, the gentle smile, the quiet voice that still sounded like bells. He pressed his forehead to hers. "The part where you wanted me to do everything I wanted to do. I'm not used to that," he brushed their noses together. "I'm not used to being loved by a wife, but I want to be."

She nuzzled into his chest and stuck her face in the crook of his neck. He ran a hand through her hair, still heavily mussed from its time pressed to the pillows. "The girl I mentioned, back when we were fourteen…"

"Ladybug."

"Yeah," he huffed, somewhat sheepishly. "You weren't, um, wrong about me still holding out for Ladybug but-"

Marinette yawned, "That's fine."

"Huh?"

"Don't have to waste money making the-" she yawned again "lingerie, I'll just put on the suit."

"What?!" Adrien pulled away to look down at his wife, but found she was fast asleep, and that she would stay that way until the sun came up. So Adrien lay there, wide awake, contemplating the likelihood of him being that _inconceivably _lucky.


End file.
